


bloom

by Ester



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ester/pseuds/Ester
Summary: “Did you bring me what I asked?”Seungcheol gestures to the floor by the door. There’s a plastic bag with two pints of fancy ice cream, a four-pack of Red Bull, and a pack of menthol cigarettes. Jeonghan nods, pleased, and pushes off the wall, gathering his blanket toga and slipping past Seungcheol towards the bedroom.“Thanks. Put those in the freezer and then come eat me out.”
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 279





	bloom

**Author's Note:**

> it's heat fic. i don't know what else to say. it's gross.

_Your heat begins in: 2 days_

The user interface of the heat tracking app is so garishly red that Jeonghan thinks everyone within a hundred-meter radius must surely know what he’s doing with his phone. He locks the screen, glances around, and sees no one on the street to scowl at. He scowls anyway. As much as he hates the stupid app, it is probably right. He’s been irrationally upset for a few days now, he’s been eating everything and anything he can get his hands on, and his stupid nipples are so sensitive he very genuinely debated calling off work that morning, because the thought of putting on a shirt felt insurmountable. Unfortunately, his employer only gives him one day of heat leave per season, and if he has to choose between withstanding sensitive nipples rubbing against a shirt or going to work for a day with a plug up his ass, the choice is easy. At least his cycle is regular enough to make planning possible.

Jeonghan reaches the door to his apartment building and taps in the access code with one hand, while the other is typing out a text message to his boss, confirming that he’ll be taking an H day on Thursday. By the time he’s made it four floors up into his apartment, his very middle aged, very beta boss has replied with OK and blessedly little else. Jeonghan flicks the tv on to a news channel, leaves his work stuff in the hallway to wait for next morning, and after a quick shower and a change of clothes, calls Seungcheol.

“Hey,” Seungcheol’s voice is warm and low even across the city. Jeonghan resents how he can practically feel his blood pressure lower, his heart rate slow down. Alphas usually don’t have a huge effect on him, even pre-heat, but Seungcheol is the farthest thing from a usual alpha.

“You free on Thursday?” Jeonghan asks, opening his fridge door and considering the myriad of leftover containers. Seungcheol is quiet for just long enough that Jeonghan knows he’s doing math in his head.

“Your heat day?”

“Mhm.” Stir-fried vegetables and bulgogi it is, he decides, and wedges his phone between his ear and shoulder to open the container.

“Yeah, I will be. Sorry, I lost track of time, I’m gonna have to move some stuff around, but I’ll be there.”

“Did you double book me with someone else?” Jeonghan bites out, and there’s the irrationality. Seungcheol barely knows other omegas, let alone helps them with heat, but there’s a terrible, hungry little gremlin, who’s always ready to fight, that wakes up in Jeonghan around his heat and embarrasses him like it’s its job. He grabs chopsticks and promptly sits down on the floor of his kitchen nook, wedged between the corner of two cabinets: back against something solid, a clear view of the entrance.

“Of course not,” Seungcheol says, patient and sounding like he’s even smiling a little, like he finds this side of Jeonghan charming. Jeonghan wishes he could say the same about himself. “I have meetings, but I’ll cancel.”

“I want ice cream,” Jeonghan informs him through a mouthful of cold vegetables. Heating dinner is for betas, who don’t have to feel like their blood is boiling four times a year. “The kind with the chocolate top you can crack. And Red Bull. And a pack of menthols.”

“That’s gross, you can’t smoke indoors. You probably couldn’t even hold a cigarette in heat.”

“No, for post. I want to sit on the balcony and smoke a cigarette. They do that in movies.” In the time it takes Seungcheol to answer, he swallows down a mouthful of rice so huge he can feel it move down his oesophagus in a huge lump. He shovels more in.

“Alright, fine,” Seungcheol sighs, “You’re going to complain about the smell all the way through and then get smoke in your eyes, just like you did in university, but fine.”

“Sounds like post-heat Jeonghan’s problem,” pre-heat Jeonghan says mercilessly, and then, with all the dignity he can still muster, adds, “Thank you.”

“Don’t ever thank me,” says Seungcheol, immediate and unbroachable. Jeonghan’s teeth nearly click together with the force of the command and it feels like his whole lower body clenches, when Seungcheol adds, “It’s- I want to.”

All Jeonghan can do is hum in vague agreement. They’ve been dancing around the topic of their relationship for years now; neither of them date other people but they don’t quite date each other either. They’re both stupidly busy, Seungcheol even more than he is. He’s learning the ropes in his uncle’s company, destined one day to take over the lead. Jeonghan suspects the only time he sleeps more than four hours a night is when he’s over at Jeonghan’s, after fucking him through the mattress, and that only happens four nights a year. The rest of the time they just text and call, send stupid memes and the occasional nude, when the need for attention gets dire enough. It’s worked well enough since their last year at university, when they met at a mutual friend’s party and Jeonghan ended the night on his knees in the bathroom, Seungcheol’s dick down his throat.

The last day of pre-heat is disgusting and uncomfortable, as usual. Jeonghan has to stop himself from grinding against his office chair at least once per quarter hour, he feels like his blood is ten degrees too hot for his veins, yet his skin is cold and clammy, and he has fever chills rattling his teeth. By the time his day is over, he’s sent Seungcheol twenty increasingly unhinged messages that have culminated in him sending a car with a driver to get Jeonghan home. It’s not the first time Jeonghan has wanted to send an _I love you_ to him, but it’s maybe the truest. 

When Jeonghan gets home, he doesn’t bother with anything, just strips down, piles the clothes onto a chair in his bedroom, and crawls on the bed, both exhausted enough to crash immediately and too wired to stay still. He squirms around uselessly for a moment, pushing and pulling at the bedcovers in a vain effort to get them to settle _right_ , before giving up and messily cocooning himself into the blanket. He feeds a few fingers into himself, to test out how slick and loose he's getting, but it feels both too good and too inadequate to bear, so he wipes his fingers onto the sheet that’s about to get ruined anyway, rolls onto his stomach and curls up like a pill bug.

An insistent ringing of the doorbell wakes Jeonghan up after what feels like both five minutes and a year. The clock on the bedside table reads just after ten in the morning. He rolls off the bed, gathers the blanket around himself like a toga and shuffles to the hallway to let Seungcheol in.

“You shouldn’t answer the door like that,” Seungcheol says, eyes dark and on Jeonghan’s exposed shoulders, as he shuts the door behind himself and crowds Jeonghan against the hallway wall, like it’s the natural order of actions. Jeonghan scrunches his face, taking in Seungcheol’s appearance. He hasn’t seen him in the flesh for months and he looks good; a little tired, a little pale, but sharp and angular as always, that typically Seungcheol tilt to his chin that makes him seem like he’s always looking a little down at you.

“You shouldn’t wake me up from dead sleep.”

Jeonghan brings a fist up to rub at his eyes for good measure, letting the blanket slip down his arm a little more. Seungcheol’s brow softens, his eyes go all big and round. He’s the easiest man in the world, Jeonghan thinks, fondly.

“You sleep well?” Seungcheol asks, fingers of his right hand coming up to brush bleached, honestly a little fried, hair out of Jeonghan eyes, while his left settles on Jeonghan’s waist.

“Sixteen hours, apparently.”

“Good.”

Seungcheol’s forehead leans to rest gently against Jeonghan’s and he brushes their noses together, back and forth, before angling his head to claim a kiss off his mouth. For a moment, it’s sweet and tentative, like a _hello again_ after a long absence. Then Jeonghan moans, as he nips at his lip, and the kiss turns deep and filthy. A hand closes around the nape of Jeonghan’s neck and he can feel his knees go soft. When Seungcheol finally pulls away, mouth red and slick, he looks so pleased with himself that Jeonghan has to get one final jab in before he surrenders.

“Did you bring me what I asked?”

Seungcheol gestures to the floor by the door. There’s a plastic bag with two pints of fancy ice cream, a four-pack of Red Bull, and a pack of menthol cigarettes. Jeonghan nods, pleased, and pushes off the wall, gathering his blanket toga and slipping past Seungcheol towards the bedroom.

“Thanks. Put those in the freezer and then come eat me out.”

Possibly the best thing about Seungcheol is that he takes direction well. In five minutes, Jeonghan is on his back on the bed, the blanket pooled under him, his thighs around Seungcheol’s head and his heels digging into his broad back. Seungcheol fucks his tongue into him, along with a finger to press against his prostate, and Jeonghan sobs. His tongue is soft and insistent against him, alternating between licks and thrusts. There’s so much slick that if Jeonghan could do anything other than wail into his own forearm, he’d be mortified.

Seungcheol’s finger pushes against his prostate in pulses, mean and knowing. Jeonghan twists on the bed, enough to dislodge him, not sure whether he’s trying to get away from the sensation or press against it. A pair of warm, strong hands tighten around his hips and force him still. Seungcheol draws away a little. His chin is wet, as he kisses Jeonghan’s inner thigh.

“You gonna behave?”

Jeonghan answers by bucking his hips up. Seungcheol pushes two fingers into him, abrupt, and curls them, again and again, digs him out mercilessly until Jeonghan goes lax and shivery, his first orgasm more of a sigh of relief than an explosion.

“There you go,” Seungcheol hums, hand slowing to a scissoring stretch. Not that Jeonghan needs it. He feels obscenely loose and pliant; like Seungcheol could do anything he wanted, “That’s what you needed.” One orgasm during a heat is nothing, just kindling for the flames. As soon as Seungcheol’s fingers leave him, Jeonghan whines, legs kicking out and shivers running up his sides.

“More,” he sighs, voice gone breathy and hoarse, “Seungcheol, I want more.”

“I know,” Seungcheol says, patting his hip in a sign to roll over, “I know, baby.”

Jeonghan rolls over to his stomach and buries his face into a pillow, knees spreading to allow Seungcheol between them, where he belongs. Hands knead at his ass, spreading his cheeks and exposing him to the air that feels ice cold against his hot, wet hole. His stomach cramps from both arousal and humiliation.

“Please. Alpha, please.”

There’s only the barest involuntary tightening to Seungcheol’s grip. Then, two fingers smack bluntly against Jeonghan’s hole. His ass hitches up like it’s pulled by a string, recognising a command, and gets rewarded with the fat tip of Seungcheol’s cock pressing in, slow and steady. Jeonghan is loose enough, wet enough, yet it still punches the air out of his lungs, as Seungcheol presses in deep, not stopping until their hips are flush against each other. He pulls almost out and fucks back in, the rhythm building up slowly enough that Jeonghan can catch on, hips pushing back to meet him.

“You’re so good.” Seungcheol’s voice is hoarse now too, hands smoothing up and down Jeonghan’s sides, “So pretty for me.” Jeonghan stretches down a little, hips tilting up so that the tip of Seungcheol’s dick catches his prostate on every stroke. He can barely hear him over the rush of blood in his ears. It’s so good, so much, that the sensation nears painful. Jeonghan can’t remember the last breath he took.

“You take me so well, I can feel it,” Seungcheol is saying and his hand snakes under Jeonghan, just above the root of his cock on his lower stomach. He presses down on the next stroke in and stars burst over Jeonghan’s eyes. His arms give out.

His ears ring. The world seems muffled and a little distant, like he’s not quite there, even though he can feel his cock and his hole twitch in the aftermath of an orgasm. He can’t believe Seungcheol’s fucked the bones out of him. Warm arms curl around him and turn him first on his back and then pull him upright to sit on Seungcheol’s lap.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s alright. You’re so good. You’re perfect. Jeonghan- _ah_.” Seungcheol’s hand comes to cup his face, before sliding to take a firm grip of his nape again. His other arms locks tightly around his hips. Jeonghan feels like they could be floating in the air and he still wouldn’t fall. Only then does he notice the little hiccupping sobs catching in his throat.

“One more, okay? One more and I’ll give you a knot to squeeze around. That’s what you need, right, baby?”

Jeonghan drops his head against the crook of Seungcheol’s neck, where the skin is cool and dry against his overheated face. The words are scalding. He nods, barely, pitifully. He’s not as much riding him as he’s letting Seungcheol push and pull his hips. His cock rubs against Seungcheol’s stomach with every movement. It doesn’t take long for it to get unbearable.

“Knot me. You have to. I can’t, I can’t – “

“You can,” comes the answer, delivered with a two-handed squeeze of his ass that spreads his cheeks wider, gives Seungcheol’s cock more room, “You’re perfect, you were meant for me.” The knot is starting to swell and drag a little more with every undulation. Finally, just as it catches, Seungcheol pushes him down to the root, and closes a hand over Jeonghan’s dick, swiping his thumb over the tip of it just once. Jeonghan jack-knifes on his lap and bites down on the thick meat of his neck. Hard.

They stay there for a long while, intertwined. Seungcheol unloading into him in spurts that Jeonghan can barely feel through all the slick. Jeonghan worries the skin of his neck between his teeth, unbroken, but surely about to bruise magnificently. The effect of getting to clench down on an alpha knot is near-instantaneous; Jeonghan feels cooler and calmer already. Like a vice around his lungs has unlatched and he can breathe deep again. Seungcheol’s hands sweep rhythmically down his bare back, a little shaky. He’s laying a trail of little kisses from Jeonghan’s temple, to the hinge of his jaw, to his mouth. Jeonghan can’t really kiss him back, just bites at his mouth a little, uncoordinated.

“Better?” Seungcheol finally whispers against his mouth, eyes closed.

“Mhm.”

Both of them squeeze into Jeonghan’s shower that’s decidedly not meant for two people. Seungcheol washes his hair for him, while Jeonghan mostly clings to his shoulders and lolls around uselessly. When Seungcheol taps his flank and tries to get him to stand up a little straighter, he clings harder, bites at the bruise he made.

“You fucked me out, you have to take responsibility.”

Seungcheol stills.

“I would. I will if you want. There’s no one else, you know that.” His eyes are dark and there’s not a hint of the levity they usually force into any conversation they have about their relationship. Jeonghan isn’t sure how to respond, at first, but he’s too relaxed and content to put up pretences either.

“There’s no one else for me, either. “

Seungcheol studies him for a moment, and nods then, pressing a little kiss against his forehead, before going back to rinsing out his hair with more care than Jeonghan has ever shown it. But now that the post-orgasm lull has been disrupted, reality starts creeping back in. There’s a reason, after all, why they haven’t made more of an effort to be together before. They have very different lives and very different responsibilities. Even if they lived together and shared everything, they might still barely see each other. Jeonghan doesn’t know how to let himself miss someone like that.

“We have time, we’ll figure it out,” Seungcheol says, half to himself, half to Jeonghan, who’s gone stiff and quiet against him. He finally deems Jeonghan washed enough, turns off the water, and wraps him into a huge towel, then his bathrobe, and nearly carries him out, through the living room, to the balcony. Jeonghan has a pair of huge, egg-shaped wicker chairs there, and Seungcheol sits him down into one, like a bird into a nest. He disappears for a moment and comes back with a blanket and the treats Jeonghan requested.

Jeonghan eats his ice cream and smokes his cigarette. The smell is disgusting, and the smoke makes his eyes water. Seungcheol is right.

**Author's Note:**

> the working title of this was "unrepentant omega jeonghan garbage". i'm figuring out how to write smut.


End file.
